Little Falls transcript. [volume] (Little Falls, Morrison County, Minn.) 1876-1894, 1887-04-15
PRISCILLA.

their cearness of outline in the cling
ing white. The brown of the roads,
the stiff spikes OF frozen grass, and the
withered stems Of last summers flow
ers still showed through the feecy
wilderness.
AS the whitish darkness grew an
hour before the sun-setting OF q clear
er day, it hemmed in one-st DRIED
gabIe-roofed, New England house,
showing as the darkness deepened, q
yellow light fla shing forth at moments
from one OF it's hjgh-set, many paned
windows. The light came from the
blazing logs in an old-fashioned open
fire place, brick lined and black.
Brass andirons, polished to the laso
degree OF brightness, flung back and
forth the CHEEKY fashin.; light.
Now the logs fall together and the
blaze springs higher, revealing more
fully the quaint old room and Mary
Alden seated before a spinning wheel.
She is a daughter Of John and Pris-
ella, but they are 81 John and Pris-
ella OF later date than the puritan
John and the laughing Priscilla who
said: "Why don't you speak for
yourself, John?"
Idon't know how John Alden's Pris-
ella looked, but this Pris---, Mary, I
mean--is q girl with a mass Of golden
hair, which, tonight, has slipped from
its coil and fallen down her back.
Her eyes are blue. They are the eyes
Of a woman who can love. They
just began to have troubled lights
within their depths since the new
minister came. Her skin is of the
warm white of some roses, deepening
in the cheeks to the delicate blush st
the heart OF the rose. Her lips take
tender curves
She leans slightly forward from her
highbacked chair. Her foot is on the
treadle, her hand is yet uplifted hold
ing the yarn. But her foot forgets to
move and the wheels to fly round as
she gazes beyond the spinning wheel
at things we cannot see III the heart OF
the fire.
The shifting light leaps high, then
low; now golden, now rudy with
warmth; now dropping for O. moment
to darkness only to light up again,
revealing more fully the quaint old
room with low ceiling and white
boarded floor; the brown, time-darx
ened spinning wheel, and-surely this
girl in the old-fashioned dress OF blue
home spnn, deep, stiff linen cuffs and
neckerchief scarce whittier than the
bosom it crosses, is Priscilla!
The dreaming Priscilla!
The puritan maiden Pricila!
Through the silence of the snow
comes at times sound so common
Priscilla does not heed 1.-THE rush
ing Of many waters, and weknowthat
not far away is the restless mighty
ocean.
We are on that strangely shaped bit
OF New England which runs out and
curls around in the ocean in such q
curious way and whose name has
such flavor of fisherfolks-Cape Cod.
We have CHANGED, too, on one Of these
old-fashioned houses where the fires are
yet lit from the pine-needles of the
woods behind.
Suddenlyya stamping fleet is heard
at the door, q hand is on the latch,
and Mary springs from her dreams to
meet q rush OF cold air, 81 gust OF snow
flakes, and q big, rough-coated man
with q voice to match in bigness, and
roughness and-warmth.
"Mary my girl!'
And Priscilla jumps into his arms
with g. hall articulate cry OF delight,
never Winding the snowy coat.
"Oh, father! Oh, father" is all she
says; but she is satisfied as she
pulls him to the fire and takes off his
hat and brushes away the g!istening
moustache and whiskers. He is used
likes it, this rough, weather.beaten
sea captain. And the man who is
king on the :'NIiles Standish;" who
says to this sailor, ''Go" and he goes;
and to that boatswain, "Come!" and
be comes--this man sits meekly down
in the big armchair she orders him
into, and obediently pulls off the
snow-soaked boots and puts on
the wool-lined slippers she brings.
There is a delicious sense of ease in
slipping off his authority and obeying
the orders of his little captain, though
there is no knowing if he be in merry
or tender humor, but that at any
moment he may snatch her up to
perch her on his shoulder, as if she
were child again; or else pull her
down to his knee-which is the later
fashion.
The two captains have gay times
together on the precious day the big
one is at home. She is his only one.
He has been her only one-until now.
And she doesn't acknowledge that last
yet, even in her dreams.
When the overcoat has been hung
away and the big captain has poked
up the logs to q brighter blaze, Mary
hangs the blackened kettle on the
crane; by the time the water IS hot,
and one little, round oaken table
is covered with snowy cloth and
old-fashioned, blue-and-white china.
Then the coffee is made and stake
i broiled when the Goals are red and
there is NO smoke. Real cream for the
coffee and delicious golden butter, for
the bread, and a supper fit for q king
or two captains is ready.
The captain swallows all the coffee
without compunction,f for Mary drinks
only milk or hot water. Perhaps that
is one secret of her tea rose complex
ion, together with the exercise shegets
in the housework, and can do any
thing about the house. Not that the
S homework depends entirely on her.